The Frozen Turnabout
by A Trustworthy Fellow
Summary: The convoluted murder of a woman has left an innocent man facing charges, and it's up to Wright to defend him in court.
1. Dues

Confliction. Confliction was what I felt as I walked through the alleyway. I worked through my plan as I inched closer, ever closer, to her front door. **_Her_**_…front door._ _What should be __**my**__ front door._ I reached the door and stopped, forming a fist with my right hand and raising it against the door.

_Knock…Knock…Knock… _I knocked slowly on the door, reaching into my jacket pocket with my left hand. _I can't believe I'm going to do this,_ I thought. _No… No! You can't back down now. They've taken everything from you. Your home, your money, your life… they've taken everything! It's time for them to pay for their crimes._

I continued to argue with myself when I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. Part of me panicked inside, while the rest of me was excited, anticipating what was about to happen. Slowly, I reached further into my jacket until I felt a cold, metallic surface.

Suddenly, and expectedly, the door was opened. A short, tan woman appeared in the doorframe. I smiled.

"Henry? Why are you here?" the woman asked, her voice laced with contempt.

"Why am I here?" I asked, pulling the gun out of my jacket, careful not to let her see it. "I'm here to collect my dues."

"Excuse me? Exactly what 'dues' do I owe-" she froze. "H-Henry, what's that_?"_ she asked, gesturing at my hand.

"This? This… is justice." I said. I drew the gun, holding it to her chest. My smile grew. I pulled back the hammer, hearing the _click_ of the gun's priming mechanism. I squeezed the gun's trigger, and the entire alleyway flashed. She managed to close the door, but only after a .38 caliber bullet rocketed into her chest. I waited a few seconds, and then opened the door. I wasn't worried about leaving fingerprints; I had gloves on.

I took a quick look inside. To my surprise, the force of the gunshot had thrown the woman against the wall. A quick look at her corpse confirmed that she was dead. I was proud of my work, and began to leave, when I heard a whimper. I stopped dead in my tracks.

Slowly, I turned my head to the right, seeing an old wooden table where _she_ must have been eating dinner. There were two plates on the table, each piled with food. Turning further, I saw him.

He was a small man, wearing a white suit with a red bow tie. His hair was well groomed and short, and the expression on his face showed equal parts terror and confusion. I aimed the gun at him, ready to fire, when an idea dawned on me. I unloaded the revolver.

"Catch!" I exclaimed, throwing the gun at him. He instinctively caught it, cementing his fingerprints on the gun. He would be pointed as the killer. He would spend the rest of his life behind bars. Him, the person who stole _her _from me, and by the transitive property stole _everything_ from me.

I wiped the smile off of my face and bolted out the door.


	2. Fallen

**A/N— My sincerest apologies about the delay of this chapter.**

I ran for what seemed like hours, hurriedly navigating the dark streets of Los Angeles as I watched for the flashing of red and blue lights. After God knows how long, I finally reached my apartment building. The inside was dark, and there were no signs of anyone awake.

Quietly passing the revolving doors, I treaded through the lobby, making my way to the elevator. No one was around (I suppose one could expect that at 2:30 in the morning). I entered the elevator and pressed the '5' button, feeling my stomach drop as the elevator began its ascent. At the top of the doors, a red LED light showed the elevator's progress. Slowly it changed from a 1 to a 2, then a 3…4…5.

The elevator halted, and the doors opened to the fifth floor. Walking down the halls, I eventually came to what I call home—apartment 514.

After entering my apartment, I began looking for my glasses; I had lost them a week ago, and not having them severely impaired my vision. Finding them under the living room sofa with the TV remote, I decided to turn on the news. After passing the low-budget dramas that only basic cable could be cheap enough to supply, the local news station appeared. A red bar with the words 'Breaking News' flashed on the bottom of the screen, and a young woman draped in black was standing before police 'DO NOT CROSS' tape.

"Breaking news tonight!" the woman said into a microphone. "Another person has been murdered in Los Angeles. While police have not given us many details, they have stated the name of the victim: Hera Lacerr. Hera was found in a pool of blood, and appears to have been impaled by something. Police have not yet found what gored Hera."

_Impaled? But I...I shot her. That's what killed her… right? _As I pondered this, the reporter continued. "Police have not given us many other details. They have, however, told us that a man was found at the scene. He has been charged with the murder."

I smiled as I turned off the television. _They actually don't expect me! I'm home free!_ My smile widening, a got up to make a cup of coffee.

Then a knock came from the door.

I froze, not daring to move, for fear of who was on the other side of the door. _No…No! It can't be the police—it can't be!_ The knocking sound repeated.

** Knock…**

** Knock…**

** Knock…**

I walked to the door, trying not to make any noise. Summoning my courage, I opened the door.

Honestly, I don't know what happened after that. There were noises—noises so, so loud. Repeating over. And over. And over. I flew back. I fell through… through the window, maybe? I heard wind, and the sound of sirens. I fell further. There was an impact. Then there was no more noise. No more light.

Conciousness escaped me.


End file.
